A/N: For maryl_z, with the prompt: 'comfortable, loving, warm'.
Merry Christmas, Amy!
Jaejoong is sunshine on a winters day.
Yunho’s always known this, even when Jae is sweating and exhausted and snappish after practice, or when he says the most idiotic things that make no sense to anyone with half a brain.
But the fact has never been so apparent as that day in Paris. Yunho had woken up to an empty bed, and gone trawling through the strange, funny little place that management had booked them into. The place felt like Paris, with its old wood floors and odd, ancient bathroom and kooky kitchen. And now, it’s quiet too. Dawn is just breaking its hazy, bleak rays over the rooftops, and nobody else was awake; too exhausted from long flights and long footsteps on hard pavements to even think about getting up this early.
But the bed is empty, and Yunho is rewarded for his early awakening with the sight of an angel in the window.
Jaejoong is hanging off the balcony, looking out at the street, the buildings, his face an open contemplation of the world. The jumper he’s wearing is too big, drooping everywhere as jumpers are want to do with him. It is sliding down off his shoulders to reveal a pale expanse of skin that Yunho has never been able to resist.
The bare feet that poke from his jeans are just as tantalizing, and Yunho wonders if he might be able to tumble Jaejoong back to bed for a few more blissful hours before manager-hyung wakes and work begins.
He hugs Jaejoong, fingers tangling into the warm, sweet smelling jumper and pulling the boy close. Mineminemine his mind whispers, and he tightens his grip. Most days he can’t believe he can say that, and sometimes he just stands and whispers it to himself. Jaejoong is his. His to hold, to love, to cherish, and even with all the madness that comes with such a responsibility, he’s the best part of Yunho’s life.
He buries his nose into Jaejoong’s neck, smelling him and pressing little kisses into the skin there. Jaejoong tilts his head ever so slightly, sinking into the embrace and letting Yunho love him. That’s all he’s ever done, and all Yunho ever wants him to do.
Jaejoong’s fingers tangle into his, locking them into place over his waist and squeezing lightly, unspoken words of love and trust and contentedness moving between them.
“Good morning.” Jaejoong says, so softly, his face turned into Yunho’s so that their noses press together. Yunho smiles, presses a kiss to those lips he loves, to the man he’d give the world to, and sighs in happiness.
“Yes, it is.”